Portrayal of Us
by SageoWind218
Summary: AU Riku and Sora friendship story Riku and Sora have one of their many fights, and who else but Sora explains the trauma of their many years of friendship.


This story is an AU. I did this story for a project at school. This is not Yaoi. Maybe Shonen-ai or friendship, but nothing big. I love this story and flames are not permitted because I worked too long and hard on this story. Riku and Sora are Not mine, they both belong to Squaresoft and Disney. 

Also, this is the original version. It will not contain my original typing but it will be a more edited version. I have to read this completely and I have found numerous mistakes, like present, past- tense word usage and others. So enjoy! 

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'Portrayal of Us'

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I wish that phone would stop ringing...

On and on, day and night, it rings. I know who it is, but I don't want to speak to them. Call it 'Hateful Spite' if you want. I call it my 'Cooling Down' period. 

The answering machine beeps and I hear that forsaken voice through the intercom, vibrating in my ears noisily. He didn't _have _to yell...

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"Sora! Sora, pick up this phone! You stubborn jerk! PICK IT UP!"

I stand out of my recliner and stomp over and answered his yelling by picking up the receiver and slamming it down with my lithe hand, unable to hold the frustration much longer. I swear, the phone's a menace to those who run from it. It waits silently before springing forward, strangling you with its inanimate and cold hands. It ties you and hangs you like a black-velvet noose wrapped tightly around the convulsing neck of the guilty. I bet its just pondering now, waiting for him to make my day by putting annoyed clouds of ignorance and arrogance above it...

It's still his fault, no matter how much he and I try to forget the reminiscent conflict between us. He attack _me_ first, not me. He yelled at _me_ first, not me. He _hurt_ _me_ first.... not me...

When you think of best friends, you think of the perfect friendship. All sunshine and smiles or no clouds filled with the loveliness of rain pour on your valley of joy. Oh, no... not us. You see, he's like this semi-Goth kind of person. I'm not saying he is one; he just... likes to wear black and doesn't smile a lot. But it's worth it when he does. At least you know he's not mad at you... Anyway, back to why we're not the best of friends, even though we consider each other 'Best Friends'... Now, I have this... energetic, cheerful, happy-go-lucky attitude about everything, almost. I laugh, I run, I'm hyper every second of the day unless I'm doing homework, taking a nap, or in the president of the college's office. Yep, just happy ol' me... and that's when the trouble starts... He's the antagonist and I'm the optimist. I would rather play basketball when he wants to write stories about people having bad days, so to speak. His drawing are the worse though.... The last time I snuck through his portfolio, I threw up my lunch all over my torso and I had to go home from school, 'sick'. And that jerk _laughed_ about it! That stupid dork though it was _funny_! ... I thought, personally, he deserved to have a metal bat slammed into his pale back, breaking every blanched bone in his back.... but that's not my style. Not my style at all. But that's _his_ style, which can terrify anyone, anytime, anywhere. Sometimes, I think that the sun hides behind the gray fluffs in the sky, just shivering in fear of him. 

I hear the repetitive ringing of the phone again, and I grasp my sable locks of spiky hair harshly, no longer wanting to hear that thrice sound of a scythe slicing through the longed silence as if it were nothing. The cuts of the invisible blade peered at me before the formless voice spoke again and disappeared, vanishing right before my azure irises. The voice was gentle this time, and I was frozen in place.

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"Sora... I'm sorry. I hit you... just... call me when you're over it, okay?"

The machine beeped before the monotone voice confirmed that I had ten messages, and they were all from him...

The breeze from the opened window was cool and refreshing, and slowly I realized something; under that with '_evil' _façade, he had a heart. Under that ebony leather and silver hair, and ice-like eyes, there was some tranquillity through the chaotic mind and freakishly messed-up soul of my best friend. The tormented figure known as the phone began to call me softly, compelling me to forgive him. But, another difference between us is the patience of our prides. It takes a certain amount of time for us to forgive each other and he breaks down first. I, however, can keep a grudge for about three weeks, so... it'll take me awhile. Then again, it's been about a month and I want to do something that explains the situation. 

Well, he loves poems, so why don't I try writing one? It could be worse... this might be a Literature project, but thankfully, it isn't. As I sit down at my desk, I slowly understand something; I can't be depressed. How can I write a sad poem when I barely know how to rhyme?! This makes me wonder how I got through elementary and high school without much trouble. Soon, I decided that I would brainstorm as a way to pass time and give me an idea... it didn't help. And then _someone_ had to go and jolt me out of my trance by knocking on the door. I slammed my hands against my desk and stomped furiously to the door. I opened my mouth to say something rude and stupid as I began to turn the knob. 

"Can't you people leave me-?"

I stopped in mid-sentence, seeing the one person I was trying to confront for the week right in front of me. He had a confused expression, one eyebrow cocked higher than the other with his hands in the pockets of his leather winter trench coat smugly. "Uh... I come at a bad time, Sora?" he asked, questioning the state of my apartment as his eyes scoured the papers on the floor. I wasn't the best housekeeper, but I just didn't keep papers lying all over the carpet. _Thank you, Mother..._

"No, it's just..." I sighed, knowing I was defeated. He had this intuition-like sense when it came to our fights. He knew when to keep it up and when to come over and end it. Another ability he has is one that will never cease to amaze anyone. "You get my messages?" he inquired gently, able to tell I wasn't going to finish my sentence. "I heard all of them..." I answered quietly, hanging my head with guilt.

Once again, he had me corner in the crevice of a rock and a hard place. I tilted my head curiously when I heard him chuckle. "It's okay..." he began, stepping inside. "I understand that you are as stubborn as you are energetic, so I can't blame you for being mad at me for so long," he went silent for a moment before talking again. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have punched you after that argument about your opinion of my artwork..." He shuffled from one foot to the other faintly. He was trying his best to distract himself from the conversation, which was just like him. He always got uncomfortable when it came to apologies, but he always came through in the end... "I... I have to learn that there are critics out there and that you're the biggest one..." he smiled one of his few, but memorable grins. 

The uneasy air was dissolving quicker now and soon he started laughing. It was strange at first, but then it vibrated the drums of my ears. I couldn't help but smile and feel my day brighten tremendously. He stopped laughing, smile never ceasing and then he stepped outside again. He brought back a picture frame that had a white piece of cloth that was held by tape over the glass. "I made this during our 'fight period'. I know... or I _think_ you'll like it."

He placed the frame down on the coffee table after clearing it of the coke cans that mottled the wood surface. He turned to grin at me, then peeled the tape off of the gold-wood border of the frame and flung the cloth off and watched for my reaction. 

"Wow..."

The art was obviously done by his artistic talents and it had to be the best creation he's ever done, in my opinion. The sky was a swirled shade of blue and purple hues and the trees had the hints of Autumn upon their two-dimensional branches. And there was us, grinning cheerfully. I noticed that he wasn't wearing his trademark black leather clothing in the painting, but it didn't matter to me, though... as long as it was different. "It took about thirty minutes to figure out the best smile... I took about fifteen pictures with my digital camera just to see which smile worked best," he pronounced as if he had been dubbed 'The Greatest Person in the World', which I couldn't blame him. I would have dubbed him that if it were possible. 

"What this?" I asked, pointing to the elegant cursive letters that were standing out at the top-right corner of the work of art. He was also talented in calligraphy, besting many who had been doing such amazing handwriting for years. He told me he had just started using cursive just a week before our dispute, which astonished me beyond rational thinking, I got over it quickly, expecting no less from him. "It's a poem for us..." he said, his happy face turning serious. I turned to him slowly and tilted my head to the right, confused. "Us?"

"Yes, us," he stated sternly and matter-of-factly. I hated when he begins this... intellectual phase of his. He _had_ to state my wrongs to _everyone_ and he could go on for weeks. But one grows used to it after a while. I know I had to if I didn't want to go to jail... my temper clashes with my patience too much.

"Read it," he said, cutting through my thoughts and putting me to another subject. My cobalt eyes began to read line by line, left to right, studying the graceful curves and loops as I spoke them under my breath. 

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"A light shines,

Then withers.

But our friendship goes on

Through many summers and winters..."

I stopped only for a second, comprehending the fact that I had to speak or do something to show my view on this. It was true; No matter what, we have kept our friendship ever since he transferred to my high school in the tenth grade. He turned down some of the best colleges that would have helped his artistic and literary talents become great and well known just so he could go to the same college I was going to. As much as I hated to admit it, he cared and treasured the bond we have had all these years. Hard to believe, that was for sure... "Well? You going to speak before summer break?" he inquired me more, and I understood that even _his_ patience has limits. Straightening myself up, I looked to him once more and grinned. The obvious relief began to soften his pale features and he knew he had done well. He had always gone the extra mile and no one has a stronger will than he does. He puts so much commitment, sanguine, and sweat into his goals that even the strongest man would fall against him if all of that became a physical asset. But he was already well built, so I guess it didn't matter anyway.

"I like it..." I grasped the sides if the frame and picked it up cautiously so the imminent threat of it dropping and it breaking was farther away than the usual times I've carried something fragile. Most of the time, it didn't go well. But this time, I was determined to make sure the picture wasn't going to fracture. It had such an importance to us, and my clumsiness was _NOT_ going to make our situation worse. 

I remember where the nail is at from where I had the picture of the picture of my other friend from awhile back. But then I took it down, not wanting to look at it after her boyfriend and she was in a car wreck that killed them about a year ago. She would have graduated with us next June... but Fate had other plans. It also had other plans for the bare spot in my bedroom. "People will auction off your artwork one day at museums and wealthy conventions..." I pronounced as I placed the hook on the back of the frame on the nail that jutted out from the wall. I straightened it after it tilted to the right at the bottom corner before I heard him snicker and place a hand on my lithe shoulder. 

"I highly doubt it. They'll be too gruesome for the billionaires to look at and auction for," he grimaced slightly at the thought. "Besides, I think I might tone down the evilness. Maybe draw you every once in a while!" I rolled my eyes sarcastically before whacking him on the head childishly. "Then _everybody_ would want them then! If you keep up the dark stuff, you know that worthy people will have them to brag about!" I then placed my hands on my hips and laughed affably. "Besides... I think I can at least _try_ not to puke for a time... but I can't promise you that..."

It was his turn to roll his eyes towards my comment. He was getting restless and I was mindful of his forbearance and its bounds. I couldn't help but shrug my shoulders sweetly at his exasperated grunt. "I think..." I started slowly. "I think I might be able to squeeze you in my schedule, Riku... Maybe you can make another portrayal of us..."

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The End.

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Did you like it? I think I did better on this version than the original! 

To Kairi099 and Lucas, I don't know if I'm going to finish 'Silent Chaos' (The story about The Ring). I haven't done anything on it lately so... I don't know. Anyway, Mom wants to submit this story to a magazine... But my teacher (I LOVE MY TEACHER! She's like my twin! She played Kingdom Hearts, seen Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings, and is a big fan of sad poetry and mythology! She told me I am just like her when she was my age! YAY!) wants to play with some of the stuff I edited in this story. ^__^ Anyway, I'm ending this now! Bai Bai!


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